Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
“Rina,” I breathed.
I was on my feet, spear and sword in hand before her name had left my lips. I turned to Tolek, mind battling between dragging him to his feet and running.
“Go,” he instructed.
“Thank you,” I whispered, tearing through the trees in the direction of Santorina’s scream. My heart pounded in time with my soundless footsteps.
White cypher trunks and thick green leaves flew past me, wild creatures jumping along beside me, following the source of my pursuit. I willed one of them—any of them that were untainted—to reach her before me. A friendly beast to tackle whatever predator had found Rina.
I hurdled over roots and ducked beneath low-hanging branches with innate swiftness. Senses perked, warrior blood heightening, following her human scent and another unfamiliar one in a straight shot from the river.
I burst into a clearing rimmed with bushes bearing wild berries. In the center stood Rina, a hulking figure behind her and a small silver blade pressed into the sensitive flesh of her throat.
Her pupils swelled, locking on me as she inhaled, a mix of relief and distress.
Hands locked on her attacker’s wrist, muscles straining to keep that dagger from pressing in deeper.
Though she held a mask of bravery against this man, her lips trembled minutely.
The woman who’d held a dagger against Engrossians days before was shadowed.
She blinked furiously at me, afraid to make the slightest move, but I read that flurry: Help.
I mimicked her collected mask as I surveyed our opponent.
A head taller than Rina, the enemy’s shoulders and chest were broad enough to engulf her.
Strong arms wrapped around her waist and neck.
But it was his shirt that caught my attention—the style was formal, different than any in Gallantia with its shiny brass buttons, high collar, and thick fabric.
“You’re not from here,” I accused. Starfire was in front of me, sunlight reflecting off her pristine blade and into the face of our enemy, illuminating his sharp nose, wide eyes, and cut jaw.
His lips curled back, in a smile or a grimace I couldn’t be sure. “You’re correct,” he muttered in a gruff voice. It wasn’t malicious or harsh, but a tremor of unease ran through it.
“What do you want?” I kept my voice steady, though heated.
He tilted his head, the movement swaying his shoulder-length brown hair around his face, ears poking out. And Starfire nearly fell from my grasp. Pointed ears. I looked closer at his menacing half smile and saw the elongated canines.
Fae.
When he saw the shocked recognition on my face, he truly smiled, putting those gloriously sharp teeth on display.
“You’re a faerie,” I breathed.
My brain whirled, trying to remember every bit of history that had divided Ambrisk’s three largest land masses between the three dominant magical groups: fae to the west, sorcia in the Northern Isles, and warriors to the east. We were given the responsibility of protecting the magic-fueled land of the Mystique Mountain Range for the good of all magical creatures, including the faeries of the western continent, Vercuella.
The sorceresses, something different altogether, removed themselves from the conflicts of warrior and fae historically.
Faeries could not cross the sea into Gallantia, for they had a brutal history tainted crimson with bloodshed—particularly human bloodshed.
My heartrate spiked as I remembered the reason a treaty was finally signed two thousand years ago, sealing this agreement.
Ending the slaughter of innocent humans by the fae and allowing the escape of refugees to our continent.
Regardless of that, we all thrived off of the same magic—argued over ownership of it.
The faerie smiled, his teeth impossibly white, but his grip on Rina neither slackened nor tightened. “Correct again.”
“You’re not to be on our continent, nor to harm our people,” I growled. “Release her.”
I sensed movement through the brush behind me and prayed to the Spirits it was my friends coming to our aid. I needed to hold out until they arrived. While I could handle this brooding faerie on my own, the additional weapons and muscle couldn’t hurt.
“You don’t know what you’re saying. She is no warrior.” In a movement that was almost intimate, he inhaled the air around Santorina’s temple. “She is something else; we have no deal with her kind.”
“She is an ally of my people. She is with us.”
My words hit him like a bolt of lightning. His muscles flinched as he understood that Rina was protected under our rule, and he was bound to the treaty.
Jezebel and Cypherion burst into the clearing, leathers barely buckled up, hair dripping wet, and identical looks of fury on their faces.
“Kind of you to show up,” I greeted.
After one sweep of the scene, Jezebel spoke in a voice as soft and fierce as death’s embrace. “Now, what is going on here?”
“It looks like someone wants trouble,” Cyph said, eyes locked on that fae blade.
Jezebel chuckled. “I suggest you release her now, or my friend here will sink his scythe into your skull quicker than you can beg the Angels for mercy. Hurt her”—she raised a dagger and flipped it around her hand, a chilling smile parting her lips—“and I’ll do it.”
Cypherion raised his weapon with a threatening growl of agreement.
“I won’t be begging to any Angels,” the fae answered. Jezebel’s hand tightened around her dagger.
“Stand down,” I commanded my sister and Cypherion. They turned aghast faces to me. “He will release her now.” I gave the faerie a look of pure ice, raising my chin and looking down my nose at him.
He bared his teeth, and I heard Jezebel’s and Cypherion’s identical intakes of breath. He gripped the knife tighter briefly but reluctantly shoved Rina forward, a pink line cutting across her throat.
“What are you doing here?” my sister asked without lowering her weapon.
Santorina scuttled to my side, shooting a glare of pure vengeance at the faerie.
Without breaking my stare, I removed a dagger from my thigh and tucked it into Rina’s palm.
Waves of relief rolled off of her as she curled her fingers around the handle.
“He was about to enlighten me,” I hissed.
He held his knife at his side. “Threats to us and our magic are looming. I was sent here to discover what hold they have on your people.”
Threats to the magic. The words landed like a hot weight in my stomach, another piece of Gallantia unraveling before me.
“What kind of threats?” Cypherion asked, his analytical brain likely already putting pieces together.
“You don’t already know?” He relished in his advantage, his full lips tilting upward on one side.
“What is your name?” I fought to wrest back control of the conversation, my question cool though my blood boiled.
He thought for a moment, looking up at the interwoven branches before deciding whether to share his identity. “Lancaster,” he finally answered. I did not know if it was true or not.
“Well, Lancaster, what can you tell us of this threat?” I asked calmly, sheathing Starfire in a show of alliance.
He dropped his dagger into his belt as well. “It will come for you—for all of us.”
“What is it?” Goose bumps rose beneath my leathers.
“We are unsure.” His tone was clipped, as if it hurt to say anything. “Our sources are tracking it, but we don’t know much yet.”
I nodded, tucking away each shift of his shoulders and buckle of his voice, clues to dissect later. “What you learn, we will want to know,” I commanded, though I held no authority over the fae.
The forest was still, everything from the creatures to the trees watching. Waiting.
Lancaster nodded, one sharp bob of his chin as his hands clenched, reluctance pouring from every facet of his body and sharp-eyed stare. I suspected he was under orders to play nice with Mystique leaders.
“Now be gone, and do not harm any others in our land.”
He looked to Rina. “I am sorry for the misunderstanding. We will meet again.” He swept a deep bow before running from the clearing with the unmatched speed of the fae.
I leaned on Malakai’s spear, allowing the weakness in my legs to creep up my body. Another thread being dangled before me, unraveling from the tapestry I had thought so perfect. It begged me to weave the mysteries back together, to clarify the muddled truth of a world much dirtier than I thought.
But the web became more tangled by the day. I was uncertain where each strand belonged.
“What did he mean?” Rina asked that night when we settled down to sleep. The sky was black, barely any stars peeking through the trees.
I laid my blanket next to hers, as close as possible, and curled on my side to face her, supporting my head with my arm. I was careful to avoid the central point of the Curse where the pain was the deepest, but I was growing used to the ache.
“I don’t know.” Something in my gut curled when I repeated the faerie’s warning to myself. It will come for you—for all of us. “But I have a feeling we’ll know before long,” I whispered into the night.
Rina remained on her back, the moon above us reflected in her wide eyes. She was purely human, yet she fought by our side on this journey, stepping into conflicts that were not her responsibility. For so long, she had shouldered so much more than she should have to.
“Rina?”
“Hm?” she hummed.
“If you weren’t here, if the war hadn’t happened and”—I took a breath—“your parents were alive…” She inhaled sharply. “What would you be doing with your life?” She was twenty-one with endless opportunities.
She turned her head to me and swallowed visibly. “I don’t know.”
“What did you want to do—before?”
I listened to the sounds of the forest, punctuated by the deep breathing of our friends while Rina considered her answer. I loved this time of night—when everything was still for a moment. Like the earth held its breath.
“Sometimes I thought I would become a healer. My mother loved it.”
“That would be nice to honor her,” I agreed, remembering her mother’s gentle hands tending to wounds and how her daughter mimicked it.
“But when you all started the more rigorous training schedule, I wanted to do something physical, too.” Her eyes searched the stars for an answer. “I started taking dance lessons. I think I’d like to do something with that.”
Santorina had always been graceful, but I remembered that summer when the boys and I had been thirteen. We had been required to attend longer days of training and had hardly seen Santorina. It was the first time I’d truly felt the differences between our kinds.
Though I regretted never inquiring into her hobby before, I liked knowing that she had something she loved.
“That would be perfect for you,” I said, rolling onto my back.
“I’d like to see you dance sometime.” I could picture her on one of those large stages in Palerman’s arts district once repaired fully, spotlights gilding her.
Leaping, twirling, every move controlled yet effortless, like she was floating. She’d be beautiful.
And if I did not live to see it, I’d guide her as a Spirit should, ensuring she found all the happiness her heart deserved.
After a beat of silence, Rina muttered, “I’m sorry about today.”
I looked at the white light across her face and something warm flooded my chest. Similar to the feeling of a large sip of rum, yet different. More…peaceful, less blurry. I nuzzled into the sensation, letting it spread through my tired body.
“None of it was your fault. It was the damned fae male.” The words were ash in my mouth as I watched the slight pink line on Rina’s neck bob with each swallow.
She nodded slightly. “I need to train. I never want to be caught unaware again.”
“Of course,” I answered, guilt slicing through me at her fear. Why had I not insisted on this before? I had always strived to protect my friends, not considering that maybe they could protect themselves. “We can start tomorrow.”
She reached beside her and handed me the dagger I’d lent her for the duration of the day. “This is yours.”
“No.” I shook my head. “You can keep it.” It was one of the set Cyph had given me, but I had a feeling he would not mind us sharing them.
She nodded a second time, tucking the weapon to her chest. “The next time our paths cross with that faerie, he’ll bleed.”
I smiled at the steel glint in her eyes, the image and warmth in my body pulsing as I drifted to sleep. “That he will.”